


A Short Visit

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Joey is just... very tired, M/M, Sad, Sick Character, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Violent Thoughts, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21348328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: “You’re warm.” he murmured.“It’s ‘cause I’m not dead yet.”__Malcolm is worried about his brother in law.
Relationships: Joey Drew/Malcolm McNamara
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	A Short Visit

If he had religiously followed Sonja’s advice, he shouldn’t have been there. He shouldn’t have even come in the near proximity of that door.

But he needed this. He felt as if there had not been a moment of peace for him ever since he’d gotten back to his old office.

And he was more than certain the person he was planning to visit had taken the fall worse than anybody else.

It was just to check on him.

Make sure he was alright.

Malcolm knocked a couple times.

No answer.

He waited some more seconds; he knocked again.

Not a sound.

“Hello?”

The doorkeeper had told him he was home. He had to be home, because she had only seen him come out twice in the course of a week.

“Joey, it’s me. Malcolm.”

Not a very healthy starting point, he had to admit it.

He tried jamming the doorknob, to attempt and create some more noise.

The door unlocked and opened docily, and the lawyer waited in front of it. A little stunned, maybe.

He peeked his head inside: “Hello?” he called again.

Joey was curled up on one of his armchairs, a hand covering his eyes. His mouth looked as if a disappointingly dry and sour taste was only recently starting to wash away from his tongue. His stubble was unkept and almost resembled an actual beard trying to grow longer. His left leg dangled weakly off of an armrest; his right thigh was squashed beneath it. He was breathing evenly.

Malcolm closed the door behind himself and went to kneel in front of him.

“Joey.” he whispered, shaking the other man’s shoulder.

A hum answered him. No motion.

“It’s Malcolm.”

“I know.”

“Sorry to wake you up.”

“I was already awake, it’s fine.”

“I knocked on the door.”

“You did?”

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

“Didn’t hear you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

He looked around. Empty cartons and glass bottles glared at him from the table. Some white liquid was staining the floor drop after drop.

“You’ve been drinking.”

“Water and milk.”

“What about alcohol?”

“Don’t have the money for it.”

The former animator’s voice was terribly quiet. He’d been so used to hear it boom from room to room, resonating through the hallways effortlessly, filling every nook and cranny, and now it left… So much space.

So much _empty_ space.

Joey exhaled a sigh through his nose.

“How did you get in?”

“You left the door open.”

“Oh. I thought you had the keys.”

“Why would I have the keys for your apartment?”

Specks of a grey eye flickered behind the curtain of fingers: “For our monthly scheduled clandestine homosexual affair meeting, of course.”

Malcolm stared.

The corners of his lips rose towards his siamese cat-like eyes.

“Of course.” he cooed. “It’s the only place Sonja will never think of looking.”

“Exactly, lover-boy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I thought you loved that… In bed.”

“Please don’t start with those jokes.”

“What, you think that’s all there is in my repertoire? I know plenty more. In bed.”

“Stop.”

“Alright. I’ll be a good boy.”

Pupils sorrounded by grey and green irises held each other in a staring contest for a long, long minute.

“In bed.”

Malcolm huffed a giggle: “You should lock the door.”

“Hm.” Joey didn’t seem too amused. He had such a spent look. “Why should I.”

“To keep robbers out.”

“That’s why I left it open.”

“To keep them out?”

“So they could come in. Steal some stuff… Kill me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Malcolm’s hands were kind of chubby. Joey close his eyes and leaned into the touch as his brother-in-law’s palm rested on his forehead.

“You’re warm.” he murmured.

“It’s ‘cause I’m not dead yet.”

The lawyer stood up: “Do you have a thermometer?”

“In the bathroom.” Joey groaned. Short after he added, with the voice of a sickly child who doesn’t want to drink a bitter medicine: “I’m not sick.”

Malcolm only hummed in response. His footsteps became quieter as he left the room before coming to a halt. The ex-animator listened closely: he heard him open the bathroom’s cabinet, move a couple things, and click his tongue softly when he finally found what he was looking for. He could make out the thermometer being shaken as Malcolm came back, crouching before him; he tugged gently at Joey’s shirt to reach underneath it more easily and stuck the object under his armpit.

He brushed his hand on Joey’s forehead again. You feel very hot, he thought; but he didn’t say a word. He leaned closer and put his forehead against the other’s.

“I had a dream.” the ex-animator whispered.

He sounded terribly tired.

“There was an angel, with wings of every color of the rainbow.” he continued. “The hair was intertwined with ivy, the dress a vibrant purple, and the skin as grey as ash.

She came down from heaven and beat me until I was a rotting corpse.

And then I woke up.” his fingers unfolded to reveal his eye. It was circled by eyebags and had a red halo around his sclera.

He sighed, hopeless and sour: “It was disappointing.”

“The dream?” Malcolm asked in a breath.

“Being still alive.”

They were so close right now. So incredibly close. Joey cound have reached out his hand and combed the other man’s dark hair through his fingers. He could have tucked it behind his ear. He could have lingered on the slight beard adorning his chin. He could have slid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, a kiss, staring into those green, long, feline eyes as he just let himself cry. He could feel Malcolm’s comforting hands hold him gently already, his voice causing soft vibrations on his lips as he pressed his own on them.

Neither moved.

For a second, he wished it hadn’t been a joke.

That affair he had mentioned earlier.

He wished it was real.

At least he would have had someone.

The thermometer was pulled from underneath his armpit.

Malcolm waited before shifting his eyes from Joey’s to the object.

“You have a temperature.”

Joey mumbled a curse.

“I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Thank you.”

The fabric pressed gently against him. It couldn’t be as good as the feeling of a warm human body wrapping lovingly around him, but it would do.

“Remember to lock the door.”

“Hm.”

“And go to bed. An actual bed.”

“Hmm-hm. As you wish.”

He looked on as the lawyer inched towards the door.

“See you next month then.” he croaked. “In bed.”

Malcolm smiled with a chuckle.

“Hopefully sooner.”

Joey watched the door close with a click, and waited until the lawyer’s footsteps were gone. Then he got up, still wrapped in the blanket, locked the door, cursed the growing puddle of spilled milk, waddled into his bedroom, threw away his crutches and plummeted on his mattress, falling into a deep, unmoving sleep, where he prayed for gentle arms in a black cardigan.

The angel cried blades of grass that stabbed deep into his skin.

Her colorful wings were so wonderful.


End file.
